Her Rancher Bodyguard (12 page)

The kiss lingered, then she pulled away but stayed in his arms. She whispered, “We shouldn't do this.”

“You're probably right.” He let out a shaky breath. He knew it was wrong.

Focus, Boone.
He gave himself a mental shake.

He told himself he wasn't going to fall for a client. He wasn't going to fall for a woman who had no interest in country life. The woman in his arms came from a life of wealth, of ease. She'd been raised in mansions, given every opportunity. His life was all about making do and keeping the ranch going. Opposites might attract, but that didn't mean they fit into each other's worlds.

Footsteps, heavy and too obvious, grew closer. He stepped away from her. A second later Lucas appeared, his cheeks a little bit red. They'd been caught. It was obvious from the look he gave Boone that his little brother wasn't happy that he'd had to leave the room and come back a little louder and more obvious.

“You ready to get that fence fixed?” Boone asked, happy to go along pretending nothing happened.

“I've been waiting on you.”

“I'm heading that way now.” Boone raised his hand but stopped himself. No, he wouldn't touch her cheek, or her arm. He wouldn't notice that mischievous gleam in her eyes. “I'm locking the doors. See that you keep them locked.”

“Got it.” She saluted.

He shook his head and headed out the back door with his brother. Lucas shot him a disgusted look as they walked the worn path to the barn.

“What?”

“What if Mom had walked in?” Lucas asked.

“This is the problem with being a grown man living too close to his family. I'm almost thirty, little brother. I think I can handle myself without your lectures. I don't think Mom would get too upset if she saw me,” he said.

“If she saw you kissing Kayla in the kitchen?” Lucas shot him a knowing smirk. “Yeah, she'd be upset. Kayla is her little pet, big brother. Hurt Kayla and you'll be up a certain creek with no paddle.”

“I'm not going to hurt her. I'm going to keep her safe and get her back to her life in Austin. End of story.”

“These things never end well, Boone.”

“There's nothing between us.”

Lucas reached in the back of the old farm truck and pulled on a pair of leather gloves. He shook his head and went back to digging for tools. “You're a fool.”

Yeah, maybe he was. Maybe he'd started off on this job with all the right intentions and somewhere along the way he'd tripped up.

He pulled keys out of his pocket. “Get in the truck. We have fence to build.”

Lucas was smart enough to choke back a laugh as he got in the truck. Boone shot him a warning look. By the time they finished building fence this evening, that laugh would be long gone. He'd make sure of it.

Chapter Eleven

I
t was close to sunset when Boone and Lucas showed up at the house. They stomped into the kitchen, dirty and looking worn out. Kayla sat by the patio doors reading a book but put it away to watch the two brothers. They scrambled to get to the sink, pushing each other away, then fighting over a towel. Boone gave Lucas a mild shove and told him to go take a shower.

“I will, because unlike you, I have a life.” Lucas poured himself a glass of tea. “I have a date tonight.”

“You're going to break Lily Martin's heart,” Boone teased.

“She's thirteen!”

“Thirteen-year-old girls have hearts, too, you know,” Kayla spoke up, reminding them that she was there. They glanced her way, Boone grinning and Lucas frowning.

Lucas wiped his face with the towel and hung it on the cabinet door. “Yeah, but I haven't done anything to make her feel this way.”

“You exist. She's thirteen. Someday she'll understand that thirteen is a child compared to your what? Eighteen?”

“Nineteen, thank you very much. And Lily is a sweet kid. But she's still just a kid.” He shot past them to the door, as if he couldn't get away soon enough. “You all have a great night. I heard the twins say they were going to a movie. Michaela was going to pick Molly up and go out with a friend. Who knows what Janie does?”

“Janie went to a small group meeting,” Kayla offered. “I helped your mom fix soup and sandwiches for her and your dad.”

“Sounds as if everyone is taken care of. See you all later.” Then Lucas was gone. Leaving Boone and Kayla alone.

“I need to get cleaned up and get off my feet,” he said as he sat down at the table with her. “How about we go to my place? I'll fix us something to eat. We can watch movies.”

“You don't have to do that. I can heat a bowl of soup and just go to bed early.”

He pushed himself to his feet. “Kayla, I know you didn't expect to live here for a month. But I'm not going to stop doing my job. You're not staying here alone.”

No, she didn't think he would let her get away with that. But putting a little distance between them wouldn't be such a bad idea. Especially when he had that soft, vulnerable look around his eyes. It was a look that would make any woman cave.

“I'm not alone,” she countered.

“Come on, we'll take my truck.” He pulled out his keys and motioned for her to follow.

She wasn't winning this battle. But being with him felt dangerous. Almost as dangerous as whoever was stalking her. She shook off that thought. He wasn't a danger to her.

Only to her heart.

She'd never known anyone like him. Her world had been so shallow, filled with men who were useless, with relationships that went nowhere and experiences that left her empty and searching for more.

“Okay, we'll take your truck. Do you want me to drive?” she offered as they headed out.

In answer he tossed her his keys. “Go for it. Can you drive a standard?”

“A what?”

“Don't mess with me, Stanford. I'm too tired.” But there was a light in his eyes, a glint of humor.

“Yes, Wilder, I can drive a standard,” she assured him.

A few minutes later she climbed behind the wheel of his precious truck. It started and she eased off the clutch as she hit the gas. The vehicle lurched a little and Boone reached for the door.

“You said you could drive it.”

She eased the truck forward, avoiding further lurching and bucking. “I didn't say I was any good at it. I just said I could drive it.”

The truck jumped forward and died.

Boone leaned back in his seat. “Okay, put it in First.”

She did.

“Start it with your foot on the clutch and the gas. Ease off the clutch. Ease. That means slowly.”

She did as he told her. “I know what
ease
means.”

He glanced her way, the look in his espresso-colored eyes warmed her heart. “Stanford, you've never eased through anything. You rush into every situation full throttle.”

“I believe in getting things done.”

“I'm sure you do. Park close to the RV. I don't know if Daron will be home tonight.”

“Home?” She took the keys out of the ignition. “Does he live here, too?”

He waited until they were climbing the steps to answer. “That depends on what you mean by
live
. I didn't ask for a roommate and he hasn't been invited to live here. He just shows up and sometimes forgets to leave.”

His collie, Sally, hurried to his side, nudging against him as he unlocked the door. He pushed it open and the dog ran inside.

“Don't mind the mess. Daron thinks he's the neat one. He's not. And this place just isn't big enough for two. It's barely big enough for one.”

“I like it,” she responded.

Boone headed for the bedroom at the back of the RV. “I'll be back in a minute.”

Kayla spotted the empty dog dish. She filled the water bowl and then dug around in cabinets until she found dog food to fill the other bowl. Sally gave her a suspicious look but accepted the food.

Boone returned a minute later, the left leg of his jeans pinned and crutches beneath his arms.

She stood there, unsure. “Are you okay?”

He grinned up at her. “Stanford, I'm okay. Fixing fence isn't exactly the easiest activity. But it's done.”

“If you're sure.” She wasn't. “I could make us some soup.”

He stood. “Please don't. I'm fine. And I can fix us something a lot better than soup.”

He glanced at the sink full of dishes. “Another Daron mess. Do you like omelets?”

“Do you have cheese?”

He opened the fridge door. “Yes, I have cheese.”

“Then, I like omelets.”

She ran water into the sink and watched as he cracked eggs into a bowl. He added peppers, mushrooms, ham and cheese. She leaned against the counter and watched.

“Do you want toast with this?” he asked as he poured the eggs into a pan. “The bread is in the cabinet. Butter is in the fridge. I think my mom put some of her homemade strawberry jam in there, too.”

“Sounds perfect.” She found the bread, and then the butter and jam. “Your mom is an amazing woman.”

He dropped bread into the four-slice toaster. “Yeah, she is. She's strong.”

“She's raised strong kids.”

“Yeah, she has. We're a wild bunch but our parents have managed to survive us. What about your family?”

Good question. “We're not close. Growing up, my dad spent most of his time at the office. It was always about the next case. My stepmother was busy climbing the social ladder as he climbed the career ladder. My brothers had their own lives.”

“Sounds lonely,” he observed.

“Yes, I guess it was. I thought it was typical. It was what I saw in so many of the families around us and so I didn't see it as dysfunctional.”

“I guess you wouldn't if it was all you knew.”

The toast popped up. She buttered it and spread jam. Boone lifted the pan and slid the omelet onto a plate. He cut it in half with the spatula and moved part of it to the second plate.

It was a strange, domestic moment in that tiny kitchen. They were close, too close. They were close physically and emotionally in ways she wasn't prepared for. As they brushed shoulders moving around the kitchen, she held her breath. Boone leaned his crutches against the counter and his hand touched her waist.

“You make it hard to breathe, Kayla.” His voice was husky and close to her ear.

“Breathing is so overrated,” she tried to joke.

“I've always found it to be pretty necessary to life.” He slid his lips across her temple.

“The eggs will get cold.”

“Yeah, that would be bad.” He let go of her. “We should definitely eat.”

She picked up the plates and carried them to the booth-style table. “I saw juice in the fridge. Do you want that or something else?”

He hopped to the fridge and pulled out the orange juice. “You?”

She nodded and took the juice from him. She poured two glasses. They sat down together at the table, Boone across from her. Sally sighed and stretched out on the floor. She looked up at them, her head resting on her paws.

“You know, you could press charges,” Boone spoke as he polished off his eggs and toast.

“We have to know who it is before we press charges, don't we? We can't just assume Jacobs is involved?”

“That isn't what I meant. Kayla, press charges against Whitman.”

Her lungs were suddenly starved for oxygen and she blinked back tears welling in her eyes. It took her by surprise, those tears. She shook her head. He reached for her, grasping her fingers in his, grounding her.

“No one would believe me. It's been ten years.”

“No statute of limitations for the assault of a child.”

She pushed her plate away. The dog whined and stood, coming to rest her head on Kayla's leg. Absently she stroked Sally's head, looking into the animal's eyes.

“My dad would never forgive me. It's over. It was ten years ago.”

Anger tightened Boone's mouth into a harsh line. “Kayla, what if there are other victims?”

“This isn't the conversation I want to have.”

He stood, looking down at her, his features softening. “I'm sorry. You're right.”

She followed him to the sink with their plates and when her hands were empty she reached for him, hugging him from the back, burying her face in his shirt. He didn't move. He let her take that moment to find strength in him.

How in the world did he get himself in these situations? Good thing his cell phone came to his rescue. He stepped away from her and answered.

“Daron?” He leaned against the counter. And Kayla had put some breathing room between them.

“I have a few pictures I want Kayla to look at. The PI William Stanford hired has put the son of an ex-employee of her father and the nephew of the other senatorial candidate together.”

“Okay.” Boone glanced at Kayla. She'd started washing dishes, pretending she didn't care about the conversation. “When will you be here?”

“An hour,” Daron told him.

“We'll be at my place.” Boone sat down at the dining table.

“The two of you are there?” Daron said with a hint of amusement.

“Yeah, the two of us. See you in an hour. Drive safe.”

Kayla sat down across from him. “They have something?”

“The son of an ex-employee of your dad. He's friends with Ken Jacobs, Clarence Jacobs' nephew.”

She buried her face in her hands and shook her head. “I don't know what I've done, Boone. I have blank spaces in my memory. I'm not proud of that. I'm not proud of who I've become.”

“It isn't who you've become.”

She looked up. “Really? Easy for you to say.”

“It was a side trip. You aren't stuck there forever.”

“I hope you're right.”

“I'm right,” he assured her. “We'll figure this out, get you safe and then you can go find the person you were meant to be.”

Looking at her from across the table, the dim lighting of the RV leaving her face in shadows, he couldn't help but think that he'd miss her. He'd never missed a client. He'd liked a few. He'd worried about a couple.

He wasn't too worried about Kayla. She was strong. She would do something with her life. She'd probably have that career as a teacher. She'd get married and have kids. That thought took him down back roads that he shouldn't be going down, picturing her holding a pretty little girl in her arms with dark hair and blue eyes.

“I'm not sure who I'm meant to be, Boone.” Her voice shook a little. “I've been on such a crazy journey in the past year and it seems as if it all led me here, to Martin's Crossing. I know I have to go home. Face the past. Figure out what to do in the future. But being here has meant everything.”

“Then, you use it as a stepping-stone.”

She nodded, resting her chin on her hands, her elbows propped on the table. “Your family has meant the world to me. I'm sorry that things started out so rough. I was difficult.”

Now he laughed. “Difficult?”

Her mouth tilted on one side. “Yes, difficult.”

He just stared at her.

“Okay, more than difficult. I didn't want a bodyguard. I didn't want to be thrust into the middle of your family, because I knew I wouldn't fit.”

“You've done okay for yourself, Stanford.”

“Thanks.” She stood up. “Coffee?”

He started to stand. She put a hand on his shoulder.

“Let me,” she said.

“Taking care of me, Stanford?”

“Yeah, Wilder. I guess I am. Don't tell anyone, but I'm going to miss you. And I'm going to hope I can become the type of woman that a man like you might love someday.”

The words echoed between them. Her hand dropped from his shoulder and she stepped back. The distance she put between them was more than physical. There were things he could say, should say, to make her feel better.

But she was still a client. She was still looking for herself and her past. She was still the city girl who thought she didn't fit in their small town. He still had a bucket list that didn't include things like visiting Paris, but instead was all about taking care of his family.

“I can see you want to say something, Boone. Please don't. Don't reassure me or tell me what you think I want to hear. I know who I am and where I've been.”

He reached for her hand and dragged it to his lips against his better judgment. Her eyes closed.

“I'm in over my head, Boone.”

“Me, too.”

“It's just the situation,” she told him. “This is what happens when two people are thrown together in a dire situation. But we'll be fine. In a few months you'll be protecting someone else. I'll be working on that teaching certificate. We'll see each other at Duke's and we'll share stories about what we've been doing.”